Bend
by Lady Anatui
Summary: SBOC. Being back at Hogwarts means surviving NEWTS, along with the sex, booze and drama. For Zigger Montclair, it means three things: being forced by Mum to start a diary, others recognizing she doesn't have a huge willy under her Quidditch robes, and discovering her best mate Sirius is "in love" again, this time with a girl who wants to destroy the Marauders. This means business.
1. August 19-20

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own anything Harry Potter. Anything you don't recognize is mine.

* * *

According to my mother, keeping a journal is "extremely important for a sexually budding young woman." I think she has me confused with my dear sister Imogene, but when she forced this blasphemous thing into my hands, I thought it best not to argue. The idea of a journal – a "diary," Mum insists – will be upsetting to James when he sees it. He'll probably think I've gone round the bend, but I figure taking cues from Muggle Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ – a truly strange account of vampires if ever I've heard one – wouldn't be so bad.

My main dilemma is that I worry I'll have nothing interesting to write in here, but it's not like anyone will ever read it, so no problem there. Besides, I'm friends with the Marauders, so life is rarely dull.

So here goes…

**Thursday, 19 August 1976, 11 p.m.**

My name is Zigger. No, sorry, Sigourney Montclair. But everybody calls me Zigger except Mum. I'm about to start my final year at Hogwarts, only the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in Europe. I play Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and we're going to kick Slytherin's arse this year. It's our final year. We just have to.

My best mates are James Potter and Sirius Black. James is actually my cousin – our mums are sisters – so we're practically brother and sister. He gets super protective sometimes, but I can hold my own. I mean, I've saved his arse so many times, like when Snivellus nearly hexed him in the back in March. Nobody in school can match my _Furnunculus_, or defend against it for that matter.

I play Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but I started out as Chaser with James. In fact, all my friends are other team members.

Gods, this entry is dumb. I feel like I have to explain everything. It's retched.

Going to bed now. Will consider writing again tomorrow.

…

1 a.m.

Couldn't sleep. Too frustrated. And too excited about term starting in just two weeks!

Aww, fuck.

Meant to call Chris today – friend Chris Stone, a Beater on the team – because he asked me to at the end of term. He's off with his family on some trip to Barbados or wherever. "You do know how to use the telephone, right, Zig?" he had asked at the beginning of holiday when we were leaving Nine and Three Quarters. He and his family are rich and a little snobby, but he asked me to call and I promised. Will do so in the morning. Apparently there's something that's right important he "needs" to talk to me about.

I'm sure he expected the call long before now when he gave me the number to whichever summer house they're staying in.

Oh well. He'll deal. Will call in the morning.

…

But I don't want to call him in the morning. Too much effort. Would rather play Quidditch with James and Sirius. Or my sister Mo for that matter – although she's better than you'd suspect.

Why did he have to be such a snob about it anyway? Just because my dad's Muggle-born doesn't mean I'm supposed to know how to use a telephone. Chris is an idiot though.

The trouble is, I kind of like the idiot. He's just … well, he's damn fit, but so are the rest of the Quidditch players most of the time.

* * *

**Friday, 20 August 1976, 6 p.m.**

Well, that conversation could have gone better.

I was building up the courage to call Chris, standing by the telephone and glaring at it, when Mo waltzed in with tea and bread and butter with an evil smirk on her face.

All right, perhaps I'm hyperbolizing, but she always seems to have an evil smirk on her face, so maybe not.

I mean, it's not like I enjoy talking on the telephone, and the metal's really cold against my face. So it's just stupid, all right? Actually, now that I think about it, it'd probably just be better and easier if I never touched the thing ever again.

Should have come up with a really smart excuse at the beginning of term. Or maybe owled him to ask. Could've told him service was out and I just couldn't call.

Probably wouldn't have worked though. I'm a terrible liar. I always pick at my fingernails, the torn edges, the different layers, the hangnails, cleaning underneath, the whole shebang. Besides, even if I didn't give it away with the fingernail thing, he'd probably not believe that service would be out the entire holiday.

I was realizing this and cursing myself when Mo came in with that stupid evil smirk. I hate her sometimes. And she said in her haughty stupid sleek femininely stupid voice, "You realize you're just staring at the blow like an idiot, right, Zig?" Pompous little arse. "Do you need helping learning how to use it?"

"I can function perfectly fine on my own, Mo," I snapped back at her. "Trust me, I know how to use the telephone.

"You trying to think of the number then?" She raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. Spoiled brat.

"I've got it down on this bit of parchment, thank you," I glared.

Mo laughed at that point and asked, "Then why are you just staring at the phone? It's not going to dial the number on its own, Zig. In fact, you've got to pick it up first." Stupid bugger.

"Well I'm not sure I want to ring him at all."

Her eyes lit up at that and she settled down (without even asking!) into the seat beside me. "What's it about? Who're you ringing?"

I finally sighed at this point and realized I wasn't getting out of this conversation alive and ridiculous as it may be, I told her.

"Chris asked me to call him over the holidays, and he made it sound bloody important. But I've got no clue what it's about, and it's got me a bit worried, is all," I shrugged.

This is where things get ridiculous.

This is why I'm not friends with Mo outside of this very house.

This is why I glare at her most of the time.

"Oooh," she said excitedly, "do you think he's going to ask you out? Wouldn't that be cute? That would just be adorable. You should say yes!"

And that's what I did this time. I glared. And glared.

"I doubt it," I told her, crossing my arms over my chest.

You see, I've been friends with boys my whole life. James, Sirius, Chris, Thom, Creighton, Remus, Argyle, Peter, Cliff. Am I missing anyone? Boys are what I know. I'm the only girl in the group, but that probably has to do with the fact that I'm the Quidditch player on the team. James certainly gives me a run for my money though, but we've been playing since we were kids, so I'd expect that. Sirius isn't half bad either.

James, Sirius, Chris, Argyle, Creighton, oh and Malcolm (I was forgetting someone), and I are all on the Gryffindor team together – and I'm the only girl. And there aren't many girls on the other teams either. Thom Sedgwick and Cliff Owens, though not Gryffindors, also play with us. Thom is the Seeker on the Hufflepuff team, and Cliff is the Keeper on the Ravenclaw team. Most of the time, except when we're playing each other, we all get along rather well.

To be fair, I could probably beat Chris, Argyle, and Creighton all on my own. Malcolm's the Keeper and pretty bloody good, so not sure about that one.

Anyway. Got distracted by Quidditch.

The point is, Chris wouldn't ask me out because these guys respect me too much. And boys don't date girls they respect. It would just be awkward.

But maybe eventually they'll notice I've got tits and hips now. They've grown in the past couple years. Puberty has some bonuses, you know.

"You doubt he's going to ask you out or that it would be cute?" Mo asked me in response.

I shrugged to that. "Either. I'm pretty sure if I cut my hair, everyone at school would think I was a guy, so I'm not really predicting any proposals of any kind."

"Then what are you worried about, Zig? It could be super important and you haven't rung him yet."

"It can't be that important if he wants to talk to me," I sighed. While I had my resolve, I finally picked up the telephone and dialed the number on my little bit of parchment. Mo stayed next to me on the sofa and gave me her evil smirk.

"Stone residence," Chris said when he answered the blow. One of their many summer homes, I shrugged. "How can I help you?"

"Chris!" I exclaimed, trying to sound excited to talk to him. For the record, I wasn't. My stomach hurt. "Hey, it's Zigger. You all right there, mate?"

I could practically hear him grinning through the telephone line. "Yeah, I'm grand," he said, but what's taken you so long to ring? The holiday's almost over, you know. Not to mention, I've been waiting forever."

I didn't know what to say and probably sat there fore a minute looking like an idiot. I finally settled for, "Uhh, it's just been really busy lately. I went with James and family on a cruise, and it's just been really hectic." The cruise, of course, only lasted three weeks, but nobody had told him that.

"Cool," he said. "You guys have fun? It's been ridiculously cold here in Anchorage. A cruise would have been mighty nice."

Apparently they're staying in one of their winter homes instead. Merlin, I'm daft.

"Yeah, it was grand," I replied. "Ready for school now though. Playing Quidditrch as James's house isn't quite the same as being on the pitch. Sirius's definitely getting better though. You'll have to see when you get back."

"Definitely."

"So what's up, Chris?" I asked. "Why'd you want to talk? It sounded a little urgent at the end of term."

"Yeah," he began, and he made a point to skirt around the matter, "well you're a girl, aren't you, Zigger?"

REALLY!

I had no idea what he was implying by that question, but I don't like the insinuation. Damn right I'm a girl. What kind of question is that anyway? How could he not realize I'm a fucking girl?

Then again, it did take Creighton Phillips, a Gryffindor Chaser, too long to realize I use a different changing room than everyone else on the team.

"Well, yeah I guess," I answered awkwardly (SO awkward!).

He continued without missing a beat. "Well, then you know girls, don't you?" he inquired, trying to make it sound offhand and unimportant.

"A few," I ceded.

Chris paused, apparently a little worried to ask. "Then can you maybe talk to one of them for me?"

And there it is. What he had wanted to talk about all summer. And apparently it was important enough to spend all summer thinking about it instead of just asking the girl out. Apparently this girl is special. He had wanted a favor, and this was definitely it.

DO I LOOK LIKE A BLOODY MATCHMAKER?

I don't think Chris realizes how little I know about women! I mean, I'm a girl, yeah, but that doesn't mean I talk to other girls. Mo is the closest thing I have to a female friend, and she's my fucking sister.

I'm not a matchmaker. I'd probably mess it up more than he would on his own. Hell, I'd mess it up more than James and he's been after Evans for a couple years now with almost no progress, so that's not saying much in my favor. Fuck, I'd mess it up more than Sirius, and he falls "in love" with a different girl every week – he's running out of girls to fuck at Hogwarts.

"Listen, Chris," I tried, "I don't think it's such a good idea. I'd muck it all up, I would, and you'd hate me forever. Come on, you've known me for three years now. You've got to understand by now that I'm pretty much bollocks when it comes to girls."

"Please, Zigger," he begged immediately. Bloody knobhead. "You've got to at least hear me out. I mean, if you knew, you'd agree to help in a heartbeat, really! She's perfect!"

I fucking doubt it.

"She's so beautiful, totally fit. I don't know how I never saw her before, but she sat next to me in History of Magic last year, and I finally noticed her and I still can't get her out of my head. Her name's Mandela Harper. You know her?"

The name sounded familiar, but nothing sparked my memory at the time. "No, don't recall her."

"You know her!" he insisted. "She's one of Jasmine Snider's friends."

Eww.

Jasmine Snider, the cunt, is one of Sirius's many ex-girlfriends, and as numerous as that list may be, it's rather difficult not to notice one of the many birds. They'd gone together for what had been about three weeks, which was somehow Sirius's longest relationship to date. It was going great until he realized he was mistaking sex for love. No surprise there. He did that with pretty much every bird he was ever "in love" with. He was an idiot when it came to girls. Complete moron.

But even if Snider hadn't lost her virginity to one of my best mates and rumors been spread around the school about it, I still would have known Jasmine Snider. She is the biggest snobbiest cunt in the whole school. Perhaps tied with Vivian Lawrence, her best mate, but probably worse than Lawrence.

We had to do a project together in third year, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. Honest.

If Mandela Harper's one of their friends, she's either as snobby as they are or one of their groupies. She might be all right. Gods, I hope she's all right. But I doubt it.

"Okay, I think I know who you're talking about," I told Chris. "But are you sure about this, mate? I mean, have you actually spoken to her? Do you know what she's like? Because being friends with Snider doesn't exactly speak highly of her character."

Chris merely laughed. Wanker. "Stop worrying about me, Zig, you're sweet," he said. "Of course I've spoken to her. How else would I know she exists?"

How silly of me. What a stupid question. Godric forbid he look at Mandela Harper and think, "Oh gee, that's a girl and she _exists_." Observation isn't exactly one of Chris's strong suits though, so slightly forgivable.

"You like her then?"

"Course I do. I wouldn't be asking for your help if I didn't. Come on, Zig, you've got to help me. You're a girl, you know how they think, don't you?" he begged.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a good response to that. In some respects yes, but in most, I don't have the slightest clue as to how girls think. Girls are almost as much a mystery to me as they are to Chris, and probably more of a mystery to me than they are to Sirius.

"You can at least talk to her about me, can't you? I mean, won't she listen to you more than any of the guys? I'm not asking a lot, you know. Couldn't you just put in a good word for me? Just one?"

I probably could, but I really don't want to. And I certainly don't want to associate with someone who associates with Jasmine Snider. The girl pretty much hates me after she somehow got the impression than it's my fault she and Sirius broke up last year. Which is ridiculous. If I were to talk to Mandela Harper, that cunt Snider would be pissed.

"She's a year older than you. Why would she even go for it?"

Chris is a year below me.

"Oh nice support here, Zig," he said. "Besides, why wouldn't she? It's not like we guys grow up anyway."

Really good point.

"Oh all right fine," I finally ground out, a little more angrily than intended. "I'll do it, but only because I like you, Chris. I swear, if I get one rude remark out of Harper or Snider or anyone about this, you'll have hell to pay, got it?"

I could practically hear him gulp. "Yeah," he replied nervously but happily. "You're fantastic. But seriously, why don't you want to do this for me?"

Definitely didn't want to answer that question.

"I gotta go, mate. James wanted me over at his house twenty minutes ago. I'll talk to you when you get back from Alaska, all right?" And before I could respond, I slammed down the blow on its receiver.

Gods, I'm so daft.

Mo was still there though. "Oh Merlin," she laughed at me, "you idiot! You totally like him. Why'd you agree to do that?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Mo," I said as I got up and ran to my room to where I am now to get ready to go to the Potters' house (where I still am procrastinating by the way).

"Yes you do!" Mo yelled after me.

The thing is, I've mistaken friendship and jealousy for romance before. When Sirius was dating Jasmine Snider the cunt, I was so jealous. But that's typical when your best mate barely notices you anymore because he's too busying shagging, right? That's just normal. Besides, Chris probably just wants to shag Harper and be done with her anyway. He'll get over his moronic crush one he gets to know the girl.

…

11:30 p.m.

Fuck.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Oh all right, fine. I might have a bit of a thing for Chris. But it doesn't help any. He's arse over tits for bitchy Mandela Harper.

Quidditch. That's the only thing that will save me. I'll start the term playing Quidditch and spend all my time playing Quidditch. Will be fantastic.

One problem.

That wanker who thinks we're related and calls himself James Potter got Quidditch Captain (and Head Boy but I don't give a damn about that). I WANTED QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN! I'm a bloody better Chaser than him anyway. I suppose I'm not as much a team player though, and I'd really hate to have to be the one in charge and have to deal with all the guys acting like morons.

Now that I think about it, I'm glad James got captain. He's got a higher constitution than me anyway, and he'll need it.

Extremely pissed still.

Bloody wanker Potter.

Bloody wanker Chris Stone.

Cunt bitch Snider and her gang of cunts.

I'm going for a ride on my broomstick.

* * *

_That's the first chapter. Things seem to be going well. Hopefully I'll update soon, but no guarantees because I'm almost ready to graduate in a month and things are super hectic right now. Shouldn't be writing this at all really. I have a million things to do. But I couldn't help posting it._

_Anatui_


	2. August 25-29

_Forgot to mention before, guys, the name of the title comes from Ludo's song "Such As It Ends."_

* * *

**Wednesday, 25 August 1976, 7 a.m.**

Okay, so I'm not that great at remembering to write in this journal (I can still hear Mum ahemming behind me and saying, "It's a diary, not a journal, Sigourney!") and might have been ignoring it more than Mum would like. Life has been quite bland though.

I've been studying. As much as you can study over holidays. Term doesn't begin for another week, and I absolutely cannot wait until I clamber aboard the Hogwarts Express to go off to school. Being out of school frankly sucks.

Parents are mental. Mum's constantly telling me to wearing dresses and skirts. Took me shopping yesterday to buy me "more feminine robes." I'm not 100% sure how robes can be feminine or masculine, but apparently I need fuchsia ones. She dragged me all round Madam Malkin's and then went to find more stores because Malkin's only offers "juvenile" ones.

She looked me right in the eyes and said, "Sigourney, it's time for you to dress more appropriately. You're almost seventeen, and you could be very attractive if you showed off your features." She looked right at my tits (my TITS!) and almost poked one (might be exaggerating). "If you dressed like the young lady I know is in there somewhere, you'd have all the boys after you."

Mum's daft. I'm pretty sure she ordered me twelve extra skirts than normal for my uniform. She thinks I'm throwing mine away or something.

Dad is usually working. Not much else to say on the matter.

My dear sister Imogene is just … well, Mo is exactly what Mum wants in a daughter. She's beautiful, extravagant, and a little bossy. All the boys at Hogwarts eat it up. None of the guys. Or at least they haven't told me, thank Merlin.

…

I've spent most of my time at the Potters' house. Sirius has been staying there for the past year, so it's always interesting. Remus and Peter are usually there too, so we all hang and have fun a lot.

It's nice to be somewhere where they don't try to physically remove your jeans and replace them with skirts.

* * *

**Friday, 27 August 1976, 4:30 p.m.**

Bored. Nothing seems to happen around here. Just hanging out with the guys. Itching for term to begin again.

Why am I writing in this stupid thing?

It makes me feel less happy about my life. Aren't journals supposed to have the opposite effect? Why isn't it working for me?

Maybe will ask Mum.

…

4:45 p.m.

Almost asked Mum. Changed mind as would have regretted it for the rest of holiday.

…

5:30 p.m.

Instead, I asked Mo what she thought. This is how she explained it to me:

"Oh, Zig, you poor dear. You've no idea what to write in a diary, have you?"

I shrugged.

"You're supposed to write about boys and how your studying sucks and resolutions and what you want to do in the future. You aren't supposed to blabber on about Quidditch the whole time. Nobody'd want to read that!"

"So," I said, "people are supposed to read my journal?"

She laughed. "No, silly. At least, not unless you want them to. That can be sort of dangerous though if you don't trust them completely. And even then, I wouldn't recommend it. You never know when your girlfriend is going to get pissed and tell the whole school that you shagged Darian Piper!"

"You shagged Darian Piper!" I nearly screamed.

"Oh hush," she snapped, giving me her evil smirk. "It was just once."

"Gods, that's disgusting, Mo," I said.

Piper is a Ravenclaw, like my darling Mo, but he's in my year. Quite the blighter if you ask me. But then again, Mo never asks me. She's quite popular with the guys all on her own.

"It's just sex," she shrugged.

"That doesn't mean I want to know who you're shagging! You're my sister for Godric's sake!"

I was so disgusted and frustrated that I left the room immediately and came back here to my bedroom. Don't know why Mo's going mental. Don't know why she thinks I need to know that – or that I'm all right with knowing that. Gods, she needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.

Okay, so apparently I'm supposed to put resolutions in here.

RESOLUTION #1: I will never let one of the blokes read my journal. Or anyone for that matter. (A wise resolution if ever I've heard one.)

RESOLUTION #2: Never EVER wear a skirt! Well, unless I absolutely must. Technically it's a required part of the school uniform. And in this time of Muggle women politics, is that really fair? I should be allowed to wear jeans just like the blokes!

RESOLUTION #3: Protest for Witch rights!

Not really sure what else. But this is my last year at Hogwarts. I ought to make it good. What do I want to do before I graduate?

RESOLUTION #4: Actually study. Like I did when we had OWLs. I should do that all the time.

RESOLUTION #5: I should probably spend less time thinking about and playing Quidditch. But this is the last year and we need to win big before half of us graduate!

RESOLUTION #6: If I'm trying to study more, I should probably drink a little less. I guess.

RESOLUTION #7

All right, this one is mostly for Mum because I know she'd be crazed to read it here…

RESOLUTION #7: Get a boyfriend. (If I truly must!)

Now… what's something I've always wanted to do at Hogwarts while there? I must be forgetting something.

* * *

**Sunday, 29 August 1976, 11:45 p.m.**

Hung out with the blokes all day. Played some Quidditch. Pretended to do a little pre-reading before term begins.

And (purely out of curiosity) I asked the four of them what was one thing they always wanted to do before we graduate. Recorded their answers as best I can remember.

James and Sirius looked quizzical as I proposed the question and had to think about it a while. Remus and Peter, surprisingly, were the first to respond.

"Successfully not fall off a broomstick," laughed Peter. It's pretty sad because we've tried to teach him hundreds of times, but he's never gotten the hang of it. Flying will probably never be one of his strong suits.

Remus's was mellow and a bit of a downer. "Go for a moonlit walk with a girlfriend." The bloke has a rabbit that tends to get in the way of girlfriends. Not sure how exactly that works, but he must be very attached to the furry little thing. James and Sirius dubbed it his "furry little problem" a while back. They're ridiculous.

When we turned to James and Sirius, they shrugged and said, "Can we only choose one?"

We all laughed, and they began to list off loads of things. Mostly pranks they wanted to do.

"Moon Dumbledore!"

"Take McGonagall on a date!"

"Take a bubble bath in the fountain!"

"Make Snivellus wash his hair in the fountain!"

"Watch the faces of those dirty Slytherins when we win the Cup!"

"Shag Rosmerta!" (Obviously Sirius the blighter.)

"Get Evans to go out with me!"

"Get Evans drunk!" laughed Sirius. "Maybe she'd get off that high horse of hers."

James glared. "Tell everyone Padfoot's got diseases."

"I don't!" insisted Sirius, and we all laughed.

Apparently, they have some pretty interesting ideas of what to do before graduation. Definitely agree with a few, but I'm not sure Dumbledore would appreciate seeing James's arse. Especially Head Boy James's arse. He's got responsibilities now.

They wound up yelling at each other the rest of the night, and the rest of us rolled our eyes. They're children sometimes.

I still don't know what I really want to do before graduation. There're loads of pranks. I'm sure James and Sirius barely brushed the surface of their real plans. But I want more than just pranks.

Gods, this better be the best year yet.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, everybody! Leave me a review!_

_Anatui_


	3. September 1

**Wednesday, 1 September 1976, 7 a.m.**

It's finally time for Hogwarts! I've got to hurry because we're meeting James and Sirius at the Potters' and then we're all going to Nine and Three Quarters by Floo from the house. I'm bloody excited!

Maybe I'll finally have something interesting to write about in here too. Wouldn't that be nice?

I guess I'm kind of getting into this. It's a bit fun to ramble about stuff, and I think it's helped me prevent having a row with Mum over dress robes, so it might actually be a good thing.

Anyway, I still have to finish packing. Mo is already yelling at me from downstairs because apparently she's ready already. I think she's been packing for the past week. I only started last night before I went to bed. It's not like it's that difficult. She's got a million bags of luggage though!

…

3:30 p.m.

On the Express now. Things have calmed down a bit. James is still in his Head meeting, which is ridiculous. Remus came back almost an hour ago. James is probably still fawning over Lily Evans because (no surprise here!) she was named Head Girl. That's the impression that Remus gave us all anyway.

…

Well, I was sitting with the guys for a while. Apparently most of them have better things to do right now. Sirius and Peter were playing Exploding Snap until Remus got back, and then the three of them just disappeared to run off somewhere. Probably playing a prank on some slimy Slytherins.

Was chatting with Chris for a little while, but he's passed out now. Apparently he wants me to go find his bloody Mandela Harper right now and ask her out for him. "Please, Zig, please," he practically begged.

I glared and told him, "Chris, that's not what we agreed to and you bloody well know it."

He didn't look too pleased, but he'll get over it. It's not like it's really that big a deal. If it were, he wouldn't have passed out afterwards. He's snoring like an old man right now.

So right now, I'm here waiting for most everyone to return. Chris is sleeping. Thom is reading a book. And I'm writing in my journal.

Merlin, these guys don't need to know about my journal. I think I'll just put it away right now.

…

4 a.m.

What a night.

The Sorting Ceremony was pretty uneventful. Lots of ickle firsties, and far too many Slytherins for my liking. But overall, everything was uneventful, not much to tell.

UNTIL!

So Sirius told me on the train earlier, "We want to start out this year with a bang, Zig. What d'you think?"

I had nodded with a grin, not sure what they were planning, but I'm always interested in their pranks. "How can I help?"

"Well, we need you to distract Evans," he smirked, knowing how excited I would be for the task.

Let's get one thing straight.

I don't like Lily Evans. I mean, I don't much dislike her either. I couldn't or James would murder me. I'm not daft. But I'm certainly not her biggest fan (that'd be James). We've never seen eye to eye on much. I play Quidditch. She reads books. I like pranks. She hates them. I'm related to James. She wants him to stop being a prat. You get the picture.

And since we don't see eye to eye, we don't talk much either. I mean, I'm grand in my subjects, but she brilliant at everything and she doesn't mind shoving it in other people's faces either. She's as much as wanker as James is, if you ask me. Not that either of them ever would.

Sirius understands though. He dislikes her more than I do, but his reasons have more to do with the fact that she's a huge bitch to his best mate half the time.

My reasons are probably more trivial than his. I dislike her because she's always thought I was too much of a tomboy and encouraged the mates too much instead of being a prissy little brat like her. I dislike her because she has no sense of humor, and she pretty much hates me because I'm just as big of a troublemaker as James and his merry men. Also, every time we win a match, we get pissed in the common room and she probably cleans up more than a few vomit stains. Not that I'm the one vomiting, but you get the picture.

"Gods, do I have to?" I asked him, slumping down in the seat.

"It's essential, Zig," he grinned from ear to ear.

So the feast was pretty uneventful, but I had this feeling of dread in my whole stomach. And when we were sent to bed, I found Evans in our dorm at eight and began the most awkward conversation of my life.

"Hi," I said awkwardly.

She looked up at me in slight surprise, but seemed to brush it off pretty quickly. "Hello, Sigourney," she smiled. She's the only other person that seems to call me that aside from my mother. "How was your holiday?"

"It was great," I replied with a grin. "Went on a family cruise to the south Pacific. What did you do?"

She awkwardly sat down on her bed. "I went to my sister's wedding," she said.

"That's grand," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but her face didn't look very enthusiastic.

She shrugged. "It was all right."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, my sister's a Muggle, and we've had some trouble since I got my Hogwarts letter," she explained. "It was difficult to be there. I don't think she really wanted me there."

"I'm sure she did," I insisted. "She's your sister."

Hell, even Sirius's brother still seems to love him despite their family, so I'm sure the Evans family will be just fine.

She shrugged again, unconvinced.

I decided to change the subject.

"How do you like being Head Girl?" I asked, not sure what to say next. The distraction had to last as long as possible.

She made a face. "Ugh, it could be better," she said.

"But I thought it's what you always wanted."

"Yeah, but I never expected Potter to be Head Boy," she glared. "No offense. It's just going to make it a difficult year."

"I understand," I said, though not 100% true. "It's all right. James has a tendency to make things as difficult as possible. It's one of his favorite pastimes. And I think he likes getting a rise out of you more than anything."

"I just don't understand why."

"Evans, he really likes you."

"Yes," she said, "and I don't understand why. And I don't understand why Professor Dumbledore would EVER make him Head Boy. He's irresponsible, ridiculous, and big-headed. It's inconceivable!"

Oh come on, that has to be enough of a distraction.

I humphed at Evans and crossed my shoulders over my arms. "You're pretty ridiculous and big-headed too, Evans," I glared. "You should try looking in a mirror before you start pointing fingers."

I didn't care that it was Head Girl Lily Evans and blah blah blah. She's still got her head up her arse.

Not sure if this upset her or frustrated her or something, but I glared my way all the way down to the common room where everything was set up and ready. By the time Evans would even notice it would be too late.

The Marauders were all excitedly handing out butterbeers to the other students, and pretty soon my frustration had disappeared. The guys made up for any anger Evans might have instigated.

All too quickly, James and I were playing Gobstones, and every time we lost a point and the stones spat at us, we took shots of firewhisky. Very, very bad idea. And everyone else – Sirius, Remus, Peter, Chris, Creighton, Argyle, and Mal, and they even snuck in Thom and Cliff to hang out with us – hung around us and talked.

By the end of the night, we were the only ones there. Most of the other students had gone to bed, and that was perfectly fine with us. The common room was a huge mess anyway. Gobstones had been abandoned, and we were all sitting in a circle, still drinking firewhisky and laughing about nothing.

And then, at the most annoying of times, the subject turned to girls.

REALLY?

This never used to happen! It was always Quidditch and pranks and Merlin knows what else, but never girls. Why does puberty ruin everything?

So I was just sitting there awkwardly during most of the conversation as James, for instance, went on and on about bloody Evans. Apparently I'm not the only one tired of this story though.

"Merlin, Prongs, will you shut up about Evans," groaned Sirius, clutching his head as if he were in pain (probably the beginnings of a hangover). "She's not worth the time."

James always glowered when Sirius insulted Evans, and tonight was no different. The glower took on a drunken sickly look though. "Don't go talkin' about Evans like that," he insisted, trying and failing to cross his arms.

Sirius though was more sober than James, and it was obvious in his retort. "Seriously, Prongs, that girl has you twisted around her fingers, and you're too arse over tits to realize that she's doing it on purpose."

"Yeah," added in Chris, turning to me suddenly, "you should ask an actual girl what she thinks. Right, Zigger?"

Why does Chris suddenly think that I know anything about girls, playing hard to get, or relationships at all?

"Uh um ummm," I stammered as all eyes turned on me.

"You know," agreed Sirius, "you're right, Chris. Come on, Zig, help a mate out here. He's your cousin anyway, and you know he needs help with Evans if he's ever going to get over her."

"I'm no' getting over Lily Evans," insisted James furiously.

"Or win her," Sirius added with a shrug.

There was a strange moment where almost everyone else seemed to announce their agreements, and everyone stared at me like I somehow held all the answers they had been waiting for their whole lives.

For the record, I hold no answers whatsoever.

"Uhh, I don't really know," I said, trying to think of something. ANYTHING! "She's real bent up about your being Head Boy though, mate. She just about had a fit when I was talking to her earlier."

James's eyes lit up. "That's it!" he cried. "You're amazing, Zigger!"

"I am?"

"Yes! You'll solve all my problems."

"Uh, how am I gonna do that, James?" I asked.

"You will become friends with her! You have to. I mean, you're a girl, she's a girl. I'm sure you've got loads in common. You were talking to her earlier, you got her distracted for plenty of time. Actually, now that I think about it, you managed to distract her enough that she didn't come down to yell at us at all! Or fetch McGonagall. You're fantastic, Zig! I know you can do this. You'll be grand friends, and then you'll convince her to go out with me!"

Sirius didn't look too pleased, and I'm sure I didn't. But James somehow had grown enough balls to actually SEND me to bed. I haven't been sent to bed since I was twelve. By my PARENTS! But James is apparently mature enough to be my elder. Bloody wanker.

I was so shocked by the situation that when he said it ("All right, Zig, you've got to go to bed NOW! You need to be awake early in the morning so you can catch her before she goes to the Great Hall for breakfast because she's always there super early, and you need to catch her so you can walk there with her, okay?"), I couldn't do anything but nod and walk toward the dorms.

Sirius walked with me though, sending me a wary smile when we stopped at the base of the girls' staircase. "You'll be great, Zig," he said awkwardly.

"I'm not so sure. I'm not so sure James has his head on straight right now."

"But they're right, you know."

"What d'you mean?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"You are a girl."

So yeah. Congratulations to the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and friends. You finally figured out I'm a girl. It only took six bloody years.

This whole thing seems like a terrible idea though. Maybe when James and everybody is sober, they'll forget all about it.

Merlin, I hope so.

* * *

_All right, guys, there's the next chapter. I'll try to update again soon._

_Anatui_


End file.
